


toe to toe, back to back, let's go

by dizzyondreams



Series: god tier emo au [2]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Cuddling, Fluff, Mental Health Issues, Modern AU, Multi, Platonic Kissing, Recreational Drug Use, black connie/latina sasha, it's lit, jean needs human touch: an ode
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-22
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-09-11 05:24:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8955742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dizzyondreams/pseuds/dizzyondreams
Summary: Somewhat of a prequel to the magpie's solo, takes place long before the events of that fic. An exploration of Connie, Sasha and Jean's friendship.
  Despite Jean’s best efforts to keep everyone at arm’s length, he was simply a fucked up addition to Connie’s family of strays he’d managed to gather since his mum had died all those years ago.





	

**Author's Note:**

> so you don't have to have read the magpie's solo in order to understand this, since it's set before it! but if you're into sad jean and stoned poly springles i highly recommend it
> 
> sasha and connie are kinda mildly like, they have an open relationship as long as it's all good with the other party. they've known jean properly for a few years now, by the events of this fic :^)
> 
> a content warning: there is a very brief mention of past self harm on jean's part, literally half a sentence but it's there. also y'know, drugs.

It was raining when Jean showed up, absolutely pissing it down. Connie and Sasha had been inside all day, getting high and watching TV and cuddling on the sofa. Connie was planting soft, open mouthed kisses down the line of Sasha’s neck when the buzzer went, and he groaned into her collarbones as she laughed.

“To be continued.” He said, heaving himself up from the couch to cross to the intercom. Sasha grinned hazily, stretching her arms above her head with a sigh as she worked out a kink in her back. Connie shook his head at the sight of her, the collar of her stretched out t-shirt slipping down over one shoulder, hair gathered into a crazy mass of curls on her head, and pressed the button to speak. “Who is it?” He said, eyes on Sasha and the pudge of her belly, visible from when she’d stretched. 

The voice on the other end came through crackling, distorted, and Connie made a mental note to ask the super _once again_ to sort it out. “Uh, it’s Jean, mate. Let me in?”

Connie pressed his forehead to the wall, closed his eyes. Behind him, Sasha laughed obnoxiously. “Yeah, laugh it up.” He hissed. “I was like two minutes from eating you out.”

“Pity.” She said, stoned and lazy as she reached for her discarded cardigan. “Let him in, for God’s sake.”

He rolled his eyes, but pressed the buzzer to let Jean in anyway. “Y’know, ever since he got kicked out of that fancy private school and got booted to our ends, my sex life has had no peace.” Connie lamented, opening the door and propping it open with a boot so he wouldn’t have to get up again. He could hear the sharp click of Jean’s boots already, and settled himself against Sasha’s side to wait. 

“That’s a goddamn lie, and you know why.” Sasha said lightly, biting her lip to keep her grin in. Connie stared at her for a second, and then cracked up, ducking his head.

“Yeah, because you get off to the thought of the two of us, you fuckin’ perv.”

Sasha opened her mouth to reply, but then Jean barged in and her face dropped. “Jesus, Kirschtein, go swimming did ya?”

“Something like that.” Jean mumbled, closing the door behind him and standing awkwardly there. Connie gave him a long look up and down.

“You’re dripping on the rug, mate.”

“Yeah,” Jean said, looking down at himself. “Sorry.”

Sasha made a noise in the back of her throat, like she was caught halfway between pity and something Connie couldn’t place. Jean furrowed his brows at the sound and glanced away, jaw tight. For one long, drawn out second, no one said anything. Connie watched as the stony expression on Jean’s face started to crumple, and sprang up from his seat on the couch before it dropped any further.

“Alright, mate, let’s get these wet clothes off you before you soak through the floor, huh?” He pushed Jean by the small of his back towards their bathroom, shooting Sasha a wide eyed look that he hoped conveyed the message of, _roll the guy a goddamn joint already_. She shot off a salute, eyes concerned.

“You got any benzos?” Jean asked, teeth already chattering as Connie pushed the bathroom door shut behind them. Connie pulled his glasses off for him, speckled with rain, and put them in the sink. His hands were shaking, maybe from the cold, maybe something else, and Connie shook his head as he tugged Jean’s coat off and pulled his soaked sweater over his head. He hung them over the towel rack, the cheap flimsy metal creaking under the weight of sodden wool, and started in on Jean’s shirt buttons.

“You know I won’t sell you that shit anymore.” He said, brow furrowed as he worked the buttons through the rich, wet fabric. Jean was soaked to the skin, so cold that Connie could feel it radiating off him. “God, what did you do?”

“I just really need a few benzos.” Jean murmured, like he hadn’t even heard him. He sounded very far away, and Connie snapped his fingers in front of his face to grab his attention.

“Take your pants off, I’m gonna grab some dry clothes and if I find you going through this place for Sasha’s tranquilisers I promise I’ll kick your ass.”

Jean focused on him finally, and shivered once before nodding. “Thanks.”

Connie flapped his hand. “Yeah, yeah.”

Sasha was sitting tense and still on the sofa when he crossed through the main area of their apartment, and he just shrugged when she shot him a questioning look. “He wants some fucking benzos, I don’t know. He’s freezing.”

“I’ll make some tea.” She said, hopping up from the couch like she was dying for something to keep her hands busy. “Fuck, Connie, he hasn’t turned up in a state like this in a long time.” 

“I know,” Connie murmured, rubbing a hand over his shaven head. “I think that’s just because he doesn’t want to tell us, though. You know the guy, Sash, like he hasn’t being going off the deep end every other week.”

“At least he’s here now?”

Connie rolled his eyes. “I guess. I’ve gotta go get him some dry clothes, you got any joggers lying around? He’s got over a foot on me, my stuff won’t fit.”

“On the floor somewhere.” Sasha said, and then disappeared into the kitchen. Connie sighed and left too, mind on the pallor of Jean’s freezing skin as he picked through their bedroom for some warm clothes. Jean hadn’t come to them in a long time, not like that. Normally he was feigning stability, hands shaking or bloodied as he handed Connie money for whatever drug he’d gotten into that month. After a while, Connie cut him off, and then Jean stopped coming around. Last time he’d shown up in a state he’d had burns on his thighs, though Connie suspected that this time wasn’t so dire. It was hard to be mad at the guy, he thought as he picked one of Sasha’s many wooly jumpers off the ground, even when he inadvertently cockblocked Connie. There was something about him that made Connie so instantly protective of him. It had been like this since they’d fallen in together, after Jean got kicked out of private school and sent down to his and Sasha’s college like it was a punishment, or something.

Maybe Connie was just a sucker for those sad guy types, but if he was then Sasha was guilty of it too. Or maybe, despite Jean’s best efforts to keep everyone at arm’s length, he was simply a fucked up addition to Connie’s family of strays he’d managed to gather since his mum had died all those years ago.

“So, you gonna tell me why you’ve turned up looking like the ghost of fuck ups past tonight?” Connie said, nice and casual, as he entered the bathroom again. Jean was sitting on the edge of the bath in his wet underwear, smoking a damp-looking cigarette. He didn’t look up when Connie came in, just tapped ash into the sink and grunted. His hands were bright red, warming up from the cold, as was the tip of that big, sharp nose Connie liked so much. “Got some clothes.” He added, taking a seat on the closed lid of the toilet. Jean’s hair was so wet it looked bronze, and Connie grabbed a hand towel to dry him off, grinning when Jean grumbled. 

“God, stop, I’m smoking here.” He mumbled, voice flat.

“That’s more like it.” Connie said, and plucked the cigarette from his fingers, trading him a jumper. “You can have it back when you’re dressed and you’ve given me a reasonable explanation.”

“Jesus,” Jean complained, pulling the jumper over his head and taking the leggings Connie gave him. “Are these Sasha’s?”

“You think you’re gonna get your Slenderman ass in my clothes?” Connie said, taking a drag off Jean’s cigarette as he sat back down. “C’mon, dude. Y’know I have to ask, you haven’t shown up here for anything more than weed in months. Benzos, man?”

Jean pushed his hair back off his face, eyes furtive as he glanced around the tiny bathroom. He looked caged, uncomfortable, too big for the room, for his skin. Wordlessly, Connie offered him the smoke. His hands were trembling when he reached out to take it, and Connie hoped his pity didn’t show on this face. Nothing would get Jean to leave quicker.

“Uh, my-” He cleared his throat, took a drag off his cigarette and avoided Connie’s eyes. “It’s just a bad time.” He laughed humourlessly. “To be me, you know?”

Connie propped his chin on his hand, gazed at Jean like he could work him out if he stared hard enough. Jean shifted under the scrutiny, uncomfortable. “What, so you walked around in the rain for the hell of it?”

Jean shrugged, rubbed at his face with hands. His glasses were in the sink where Connie had left them, and he passed them to him wordlessly. “I got so sick of my fucking apartment.” He said, leaning forward to flick ash into the sink. “I wanted to just walk around and not be around this huge reminder of my fucking parents for a while.”

There it was. It always came back to them, and Connie sighed. “You know you could have come here, instead of wandering the streets of London like this. You could’ve been mugged, dude, a guy like you down here? You’re wearing fucking Louis Vuitton boots, for chrissakes.” 

Jean stubbed his cigarette butt out in the sink, ran some water to wash the ash away. “I know.” He said dully, and it struck Connie that Jean didn’t give a shit if he was mugged or not. He considered saying that, but held his tongue. 

They sat in silence for a minute, Jean’s chin tucked into the collar of Sasha’s jumper, hands balled into fists between his knees. “You want a joint?” Connie said finally, helplessly, and Jean nodded with his eyes fixed into the middle distance, unseeing.

“Yeah,” He said distantly. “That’d do nice.”

Sasha had seemingly gathered every single blanket they owned while they’d been in the bathroom, and a joint and a cup of tea sat on the coffee table, like some kinda fucked up afternoon tea. Her gaze flicked from Jean to Connie, and she pursed her lips when Connie shook his head behind Jean’s back and made a slicing motion across his throat. _Don’t ask him about it._

“Hey, Jean.” She said, her low voice gentle as she patted the couch next to her. “That’s a look.” She said, gesturing to the wooly pink jumper, black leggings, wet hair and glasses combo. “I’ve got a jumper just like that.”

Jean smiled a little, taking the seat next to her and drawing his knees to his chest. “Hey, Sash.” He said, surprisingly even, surprisingly soft. “I think I’m wearing your underwear.”

Connie snorted. “They’re mine, asshole.” He settled into the space on Jean’s other side, and tossed his lighter onto the coffee table so Jean could spark up. “Sasha is more of a boxers type of girl.”

“I’m a boxer brief man myself.” Jean murmured, reaching for the joint as Sasha curled into his side. He flinched a little when she rested her head on his shoulder, and Connie’s chest ached a little at the sight. Maybe he and Sasha were kind of over the top tactile, he could admit that, but he’d never met someone as touch starved as Jean. “But I’ll make do.” He mumbled around his joint, and Sasha’s eyes met Connie’s as he lit it. Connie shrugged, a tiny movement. He’d tell her later about it, but now they needed to warm Jean up and distract him as best they could. 

“You wanna watch something, man?” Connie asked, reaching for the remote. Jean shrugged, nodded, taking a long drag off the joint.

They watched an old rerun of The Young Ones, curled up together on the sofa. Jean was still cold as ice, but warmed up as he drank his tea with Connie and Sasha pressed close. By the time his joint was burning down between his fingers, his eyes were drooping, red and hazy. He’d shifted into Sasha at some point, their heads close together, passing the joint back and forth. Connie watched them, Jean’s drying hair light against her thick dark mass of hair. Something odd squeezed in his chest, affection and melancholy heavy in his throat when he noticed Sasha’s hand curled into Jean’s. 

“Hey, Jean, you feeling better, buddy?” He asked, when Jean leaned forward to toss the roach into an ashtray. Jean smiled, dopey and slow, eyelids heavy.

“Miles better.” He murmured, and settled back into Sasha’s side, her arm around his shoulders. “You smell so good, Sash.” He pressed his face into her hair, and she grinned and patted his cheek.

“You’re not so bad yourself, Kirschtein.” Her eyes were soft on him, and Connie pressed closer to Jean just to feel the affection. She pressed a kiss to Jean’s hair, unruly from the rain, then to his forehead, his nose. Silently, he tilted his head up a little, and Connie felt the corner of his mouth lift when their lips met. Jean kissed her gently, leaning into her hand on his cheek. Sasha’s darker skin against his pale face, kisses soft and slow until Jean made a noise and drew back a little.

“Is this okay?” Jean murmured, barely breaking away, sounding lazy and a little out of it. “Shit, Connie, I’m-”

“It’s fine, man.” Connie said, quick, before Jean could beat himself up about it. “Sasha can kiss whoever she wants, especially you.”

“Oh,” Jean said, turning his head a little to give Connie a bemused look. “Okay.”

“You can kiss Connie too.” Sasha said, smiling. “If it makes you feel better.”

“It’s nice.” Jean murmured, and let Sasha pull his face back to hers again. He was being so uncharacteristically hesitant, like he was sure all this warmth and affection was going to be taken away just as quick as it came. It made Connie’s chest ache, and he curled further into Jean’s side to reassure him. Jean relaxed, body lax against Sasha as she kissed him stupid. When they broke away, Jean turned his face towards Connie, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You guys are too good to me, I’m not half as good to you.”

“It’s not a pissing contest, Jean.” Connie scoffed, and loved the way Sasha hand lingered in his hair, how unfocused and pleased Jean’s eyes were. There was a pink flush high on his cheekbones, and Connie stroked his thumb over their high arches, the deep purple bruises under his eyes. “D’you wanna kiss me?”

“ _Yes_.” Jean breathed, and his eyes dropped shut as he leaned towards Connie, hand coming up to cup the back of his head and draw him in. It was such a gentle touch that Connie ached with it, and let himself be tugged forward, let himself be kissed. Jean’s lips were dry against his own, stubble scratching at his chin, the subtle scent of Jean’s cologne heavy in his nose. Jean’s mouth was lazy against his own, and Connie hummed and pressed closer, opened his mouth and let his tongue press against Jean’s chapped lips. He opened his mouth on a sigh, intimate and close, and when their tongues touched he made a pleased noise, pulled Connie closer. 

Connie hadn’t kissed another guy in a while, but he liked Jean’s big hands on him, the rasp of stubble and the bite of teeth. He sensed Sasha shift, and broke away from Jean long enough to share a look with her. Her eyes were heavy, gaze fond, and Connie had a split second to take her in before Jean was dragging his mouth back to his. Connie felt so loved he thought he could burst from it, and hoped that Jean was feeling it too. He always had Sasha, would always have her until the end, and it made his stomach twist that Jean didn’t have his own person to love. He knew Jean didn’t think he had anything to offer people, thought he was some kind of robot who didn’t need or have love, didn’t deserve it. Now, with Jean’s hands gentle on him, his mouth open and soft as he kissed him, Connie couldn’t understand how Jean could think those things. It was a testament to how much Jean had to give that he’d let his only friends in the world kiss him better. It said so much how this small offering of affection, tactile love, made him so happy and pliant. The rain hadn’t been enough to wash away whatever downswing he’d found himself in, but a tiny offering of love was. It wasn’t fair, and Connie kissed him as hard as he could, trying to communicate everything in that one simple gesture.

He let Sasha kiss him a little more, tender, both of them pink in the cheeks, mouths red. They didn’t go any further with him, not with the circumstances he’d turned up to their door under, but he was smiling and relaxed when he finally slumped back against Connie’s shoulder. Sasha shot Connie a small, secretive smile, and Connie grinned back, fingers in Jean’s hair. 

“You can stay over if you want.” Sasha murmured, reaching out a hand to tap Jean lightly on the cheek. He was stoned, kiss-drunk, dopey, and just grinned with his eyes half-shut as Connie looped his arms around his neck, holding him from behind.

“Yeah, bed’s big enough for three.” Connie added, and Jean’s eyes blinked open at that, unsure. It took Connie a moment to decode the look in his eyes, and then he hastily added, “Not an invitation for fooling around in any way, not tonight.”

Jean’s face smoothed out, and he sat upright a little as he nodded. “That’d be nice. Thanks guys.”

He let Sasha and Connie lead him into bed, curled up between them on their busted, creaky mattress. He sighed, sounding content. “Guys,” He murmured, barely awake, and Connie hummed. “I’m sorry I don’t come to you enough.”

“Just know that you can.” Sasha mumbled, and Connie knew her well enough to know she was already halfway to sleep. 

“Sure.” Jean murmured, and then he was silent. Connie lay awake a little longer, listening to the sounds of Sasha and Jean’s breathing, even and slow. Before long, the sounds lulled him closer to sleep, and he pressed his forehead to Jean’s back as his eyes began to droop. He was still wearing Sasha’s jumper, the wool scratchy against Connie’s skin, but he decided he liked the way he could smell the both of them as he drifted off.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! i've been bemoaning the lack of sasha/connie/jean kissing fics out there in the world and i guess you've gotta take matters into your own hands, right??
> 
> anyway comments are always my lifeblood i love attention


End file.
